Reunion
by Poecilotheria
Summary: A wish on a comet brings Meta Knight some desperately needed solace. (Gijinka) (MetaJecra everywhere)
1. Return

_"WHAT IS YOUR WISH"_

 _"For… to be returned to life"_

 _"For… to be returned to him"_

 _"OK_

 _3.._

 _2.._

 _1.._

 _Go!"_

Meta Knight gazed out from his balcony perch, a forlorn air about him. It had been several months since Sword and Blade had departed on a journey, and he had to admit to feeling horribly lonely. And hurt at being left out, as childish as he found such a notion. They had every right to depart wherever they pleased without him breathing down their necks. He didn't blame them for wanting to leave, either. He'd fallen into an unfortunate mire of depression that he couldn't seem to shake. Despite the fact that they'd won, that Nightmare had been vanquished, he just wasn't…

Happy. When was the last time he'd felt true joy? The fall of Nightmare? It had been several years now. While that was nothing compared with his many-thousand year life-span, it was certainly a long time to go without any sort of happiness.

"Sir Meta Knight!" he very nearly drew his blade in surprise, before regaining his composure.

"Captain Doo? What is the matter?" he asked, sensing the urgency in the other man's voice.

"Th-There's a weird guy running around the village asking for you!" Meta's eyes widened. Somebody was searching for him.

"I'll investigate immediately. What did he look like?" Meta said. Doo squinted his one large eye, thinking.

"He uh, he had a mask and a cape sorta like you. And he was blond! I think…" he rambled. Meta resisted the urge to sigh at how unobservant the man was, and only nodded before darting off towards the village, brushing past the flustered captain.

He arrived promptly in the town square, approaching the crowd gathering near the center. Fumu caught sight of him, and ran over immediately. She had been honing her self-defense skills more and more since the war had ended, with his assistance and training. She had grown into such a strong young woman.

"Sir Meta Knight! This guy is looking for you!" she called out.

"Captain Doo already informed me-"

"He says he's a Star Warrior!" she added. Meta blinked, and strode towards the center of the crowd with more urgency, slipping between the gathered Cappies and leaving an indignant Fumu in his wake.

"Hey Meta! There you are!" an achingly familiar voice stopped him cold, and he looked up to see the source. For the first time in several centuries, Meta was at a complete loss for words. A tall man with unruly blond hair stood before him, clad in the distinctive style of armor worn by Star Warriors. His mask was held at his side, no doubt removed as to seem less threatening to the villagers. But the thing Meta was stuck on was the fact that he wasn't dead.

"Je…cra?" he sputtered, his voice an embarrassing squeak.

"Um, yeah… You, uh, alright there dude?" Jecra said, reaching out a hand and resting it on Meta's shoulder to steady him. Meta held a hand up.

"I am fine" he murmured, before promptly fainting. He vaguely felt like he was being carried as he slipped into complete unconsciousness.

"Hey, you're awake! Mornin', er, afternoon?" Meta's eyes snapped open, and he shot up glancing around before sighing. Dreams of his dear friend weren't entirely uncommon, and he rubbed at his eyes only to meet the glass of his visor. Had he slept in his helm? How unusual…

"I just… I thought I saw.." Meta caught sight of the man standing in front of him "…J-Jecra?!" he choked. He registered the texture of bark behind him, and surmised that he had been propped up against a tree. The gathered townspeople shifted nervously as he scanned the crowd briefly.

"Um, yeah. That is my name" Jecra said awkwardly. Meta fixed him in a familiar piercing gaze, before standing abruptly and seizing his arm.

"Come with me" Meta urged, pulling him along as they left the square at a pace just below a run. They left a gaping crowd in their wake, save for Fumu, who crossed her arms and frowned, deep in thought.

Meta didn't stop until the two men were bathed in the dappled shade of the forest. He released Jecra's arm, and stood silently.

"What the hell, Me-"He was silenced by a sudden and crushing embrace, and for a moment wondered who on earth could be hugging him. Certainly not Meta, who loathed any sort of physical interaction or affection. Meta would also never be caught crying, and yet he confirmed that the stoic warrior was indeed weeping openly on his shoulder, trembling like a leaf.

"You…y-you…" he sobbed.

"Woah! Hey, what the hell happened?! Meta?!" Jecra sputtered, holding the man at arm's length for a moment to check him for injury. Meta slid off his helm, allowing it to drop into the leaf-litter as he held an arm over his eyes, staunching the flow of tears. Jecra pulled at said arm, hesitating when Meta resisted. "Let me see your eyes! Did your head take a hit?" Meta shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"You died…" he whispered. Jecra frowned, his concern over head injuries now having tripled.

"Pretty sure I'm still kicking" Jecra assured him. Meta suddenly grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to kneel slightly to the shorter man's eye-level.

"It has been 458 years since your death, Jecra" Meta said. Jecra started at his serious tone, searching for any sign of mischief or confusion in the other's red-rimmed eyes. There was nothing but absolute focus.

"…what" he said flatly. Meta sighed, exhaustion creeping into his posture.

"There's much for you to learn, isn't there?" Meta said. He tilted his head in that way he did only when seriously deliberating a decision. "Take a seat, then. You will most likely not enjoy hearing what I have to say."

 _(Starting out kinda angsty, but this will be pretty much pure fluff for the most part)_


	2. Familiarity

"Wow…" Jecra breathed. The past hour had gone by in a blur as Meta filled him in on everything he had missed, the two sitting side-by-side against a tree. The smaller knight only nodded in acknowledgement, before sneaking a glance at the other's face. He felt a pang of sympathy as he caught a glimpse of sullen, downcast eyes.

"Ah… this may be too forward of me, but…" Meta paused, and shook his head. "No, it's nothing. I won't bother you with such trivial nonsense."

"I'm sure it won't bother me" Jecra said, forcing a smile. Meta gazed intently at the ground, resisting the urge to wrap himself up entirely in his cape.

"Would it ease your mind at all were I to…?" Meta made an odd motion. Jecra squinted at him.

"To what?" he said slowly.

"There really is no way to word this with dignity…" Meta grumbled. Jecra flushed slightly, eyeing his friend with trepidation. Was he trying to suggest what he thought he was..?

"You are starting to worry me, dude-"he was cut off as two small but strong arms pulled him into a loose embrace. Jecra relaxed, chuckling softly. "A hug, huh?"

"Hush" Meta snapped, though his tone was light "I am not well versed in matters of emotion." Jecra rolled his eyes, and obligingly rested an arm around Meta to return the gesture. No matter the circumstances, it was nice to see him relax, even more so without his ever-present helm. It was nice to actually see your best friends face once in a while. Or in this case once in a few centuries, though he wasn't sure if being dead counted or not.

Meta definitely looked far wearier than when he'd last seen him. Dark bags were under his usually bright and vibrant eyes, who were themselves a far duller tone. The years hadn't treated the man's mental state kindly, had they…

"…Uh…Sir Meta Knight?" the female voice shattered Jecra's thoughts and sent Meta skittering away towards his helm, flushing cherry-red. Fumu blinked. She'd expected the face under that visor to be grizzled and battle-worn, not… squishy and cute. He even had the same big doe eyes that Kirby had…

"Uh, hey there miss" Jecra greeted. He noted her suspicious expression, and extended a hand. "My name is Jecra, or Sir Jecra if you wanna get formal about it."

"Fumu" she said awkwardly, shaking his hand.

"Eavesdropping is very unbecoming of you" Meta interjected, striding up with his helmet now returned to its usual place. Fumu ignored him, and kept her gaze on Jecra. If Meta trusted him so whole-heartedly, he couldn't be dangerous, but just who was he?

"Um…Sir Jecra? Who exactly are you?" she asked.

"No need for the Sir part, I've never been a formal guy. Anyway, I'm a buddy of Meta's. In fact, he's sorta my best bud" he answered, putting a hand on Meta's shoulder. Fumu watched with no small amount of surprise as Meta made no effort to remove the limb. They really were close.

"We fought alongside one another in the war" Meta supplied. Fumu nodded, quietly observing how close he was standing to the other man. Jecra seemed to be totally open, but Meta was hiding something.

"Where have you been, then?" she asked.

"Well, I sort of-"

"He was assigned to a rather distant sector, but was re-stationed upon request after the fall of Nightmare due to the GSA becoming more flexible outside of war" Meta said, cutting off his companion. Jecra seemed to almost frown for a moment before regaining his jovial grin.

"He explains it better than I do" he added. Meta gave Fumu a pointed look.

"Perhaps my quarters will serve as a more suitable place for a _private_ discussion" he quipped.

"Yeah, it's all just war stuff anyway. Trust me, you don't want to hear it, mi- Fumu" Jecra agreed, though he gave Meta a confused glance.

"It sounds interesti- hey!" she squeaked as Meta brushed past her on the narrow pathway. Jecra gave her a sympathetic look.

"Sorry 'bout him. He can get real weird sometimes" he said, darting after Meta. "Nice meetin' you, Fumu!"

"He's always weird" Fumu mumbled, though the two men were already too far away to ever hear her. Though now that she thought about it, Meta _was_ acting especially strange today. Who fainted upon seeing their friend? Who got flustered and angry when caught spending time with their friend? She blinked as she thought of the most probable explanation for such behavior, and started laughing hard enough to necessitate leaning against a tree trunk.

"He's got a crush!" she wheezed.

Meta sat on his couch, watching his friend with amusement as he inspected the television. Technology had come a long way in the years he'd been…gone. He shook away his darker thoughts and focused back onto the very much alive man in his living room.

"Fascinating… you're saying this isn't an artifact?" Jecra gasped.

"Technology has come a long way" Meta responded. Jecra hopped up, and sat beside Meta, gazing intently at the screen.

"What's it showing?" he asked.

"It is called a movie, or motion picture. It is a story conveyed through the visual medium of the television" Meta supplied. Jecra watched as very poorly made cut outs were waved about, accompanied by equally poor acting.

"Um…" he started.

"This is a poor example" Meta explained. Channel DDD's only entertainment value came from how hilariously inept it was. Jecra chuckled as a portion of the set fell over, causing a purple haired man to yell at the group of orange-haired actors that had been moving it.

"It is kinda funny" he laughed. Meta smiled, and the two sat commenting on the sub-par programming until they both drifted off to sleep, their intent to have a serious discussion buried beneath shared laughs and familiar smiles.

 _(Two bros, sitting in the forest. Five feet apart cause they're not gay.)_


	3. Warmth

As Meta watched the clock tick past twelve, he reassured himself that he definitely was not jealous. Jecra had been speaking on the phone with his son for the past six hours, which he reminded himself was completely understandable considering that he'd just been resurrected. In fact it was so reasonable that he was just bored and unable to use his cellphone for entertainment rather than being at all jealous of a father speaking with his son.

"Well, ok. But call me every day until you can, ok? I love ya, Joe-Joe! Stay safe!" Jecra said. Meta perked up from his near-comatose state. Jecra fiddled with the phone before handing it back to Meta.

"Hello?" Meta started as he realized the phone hadn't been hung up.

"…Hello" he murmured. There was a cold silence on the other end.

"Meta Knight? If anything happens to my dad before I get there, I'll punch your face into hamburger meat."

"Goodbye, Knuckle Joe" Meta deadpanned, hanging up. It stood to reason that the subject was still sore with the child, but he was entirely too hot-headed. He sighed and went to plug in the nearly drained device.

"Well he's definitely creative with his threats" Jecra chirped.

"I am aware. He did attempt to murder me, after all" Meta responded. Jecra only chuckled.

"Yeah, you, uh, mentioned that" he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. A person trying to murder Meta wasn't exactly uncommon, but it was a little awkward when it was his son. Meta sensed his discomfort, and shrugged.

"I do not hold any grudge over it. In his situation, I could easily see my behavior being similar" he assured.

"Only you could be so nonchalant about attempted murder" Jecra quipped, giving Meta a gentle punch to the shoulder. Meta lightly cuffed the back of his head in response, letting out a loud huff. He moved towards the kitchenette, beginning to rummage through a cupboard.

"Cocoa?" he asked, turning to face the other man. He nearly jumped when he saw that Jecra had moved to stand right behind him.

"No coffee, huh?" Jecra chuckled. Meta averted his eyes, tugging at a flyaway piece of hair.

"You are well aware of my hatred for bitter things" he muttered. Jecra rolled his eyes.

"You're lucky I like bitter things, considering how bitter you can get" he chided, patting Meta on the head. The shorter man swiped at Jecra's hand, scowling.

"I'm not bitter" he said bitterly, turning away to hide his reddened cheeks. He pulled out a saucepan and filled it with water. He flicked on the stove and lit it with his lighter before placing the pan atop the burner. The lighter was suddenly stolen from his grasp, and he turned to Jecra with an amusingly scandalized expression.

"You still put your little symbol on everything?" Jecra quipped, easily holding the lighter out of Meta's reach.

"It is my _emblem_ , and it is not on everything," Meta huffed, eyeing the stolen item. Jecra leaned over Meta to glance at his back.

"It's on your cape too! Wait, wasn't the GSA symbol there before…?" he asked. The smaller man stiffened, gathering his cape around him and worrying at the hem. Jecra gently pulled Meta's hand away from the fabric and rested the lighter in his palm. His hand curled around it instinctively, and Jecra lightly patted the closed fist.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bring up anything painful. Tell me when you want to, k?" Jecra said. Meta slipped the item back into his cape, staring forward. The other's hand was so warm, even through the fabric of his gloves.

"The water's boiling" he muttered, his voice distant. Jecra blinked, and watched as his friend stood stock still.

"Um…yeah. I'll get the cocoa going then," he said, giving Meta a worried sidelong glance while he retrieved two silver packets. He poured them in and stirred the powder until it dissolved, before turning off the stove. He nudged Meta, and the other man seemed to almost shake something out of his head.

"Sorry. I was thinking," he muttered, moving away from the stove. His eyes had regained their usual clarity. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and poured the steaming liquid inside. Meta carefully handed one to Jecra, flushing a little more when their fingers brushed.

"Maybe you could introduce me to everyone," Jecra quipped, blowing on his cocoa.

"Um, perhaps," Meta muttered. He hadn't liked the look Fumu had been giving him earlier, and he was feeling uncharacteristically bashful. But it may be better to get it over with…

"From what you said, seems like there's some colorful characters," Jecra chuckled.

"That is an understatement."

"That Fumu girl seemed nice enough. And you said something about having a kid you look after?"

"I observe his progress, yes. You two would get along well," Meta said, moving back towards the living room. Jecra followed, and the two sat on the sofa, cupping their drinks in their hands. It was a smaller couch, and Jecra's leg was forced to press against Meta's. The latter hoped dearly that his darker skin tone was hiding his deepening blush.

"You did always have a soft spot for kids. It's nice to see that hasn't changed," Jecra chirped, taking a cautious sip.

"I have not changed much." Meta took a deep drink, and looked away. "I am merely… working through some trauma."

"PTSD?" Jecra asked solemnly. Meta nodded, the gesture permeated with shame. Somebody as independent and proud as Meta would certainly loathe such a diagnosis.

"Truthfully, I have not been weathering it well as of late. But I will persevere eventually; there is no need to worry. It is a cycle I am accustomed to-"Meta didn't have a chance to continue before Jecra looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close in a sort of sideways hug.

"You don't have to do it alone this time!" Jecra said softly, in the distinctive upbeat tone he used to prevent such serious subjects from being mired in a depressive silence. Meta closed his eyes, his usual tense expression softening.

"I cannot properly express my gratitude for your kindness," he murmured.

"You don't need to. I can tell," Jecra responded, gently ruffling Meta's hair.

 _(Still a bit of angst, but the fluff will take over completely soon. And to anyone struggling with their own illnesses, mental or otherwise, may you find your own Jecra to help you through!)_


End file.
